


waking, dreaming

by celoica



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sleep Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 20:34:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1756447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celoica/pseuds/celoica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first thing he's aware of when he comes to is that he's in a fairly odd position.</p>
            </blockquote>





	waking, dreaming

**Author's Note:**

> Written on a drunken night when my friend turned to me and said, "Hey. Can you write some porn for me?"

The first thing he's aware of when he comes to is that he's in a fairly odd position. It's not like he hasn't straddled something before – a horse, once, but that was an embarrassing story that he refused to divulge even to the people he held at arms length **—** but the fact that he's straddling Hannibal Lecter is what drives him to halt his actions.

His mind is throbbing along with the ache in his lower stomach, and Will is pretty sure that this is most definitely not a dream. Swallowing around the dryness in his throat, Will's head hangs down, lips parted as he breathes in unsteady breaths that he can't remember being forced to take. Hands spread widely on the naked chest of Hannibal, his nails digging in little half-moon marks that will be there tomorrow as a reminder, and Will knows that he isn't dreaming.

Stretched full, a whimper escapes from his throat as he looks down at Hannibal, his mind wrecked as the slightest shift of his hips leaves the ridged head of Hannibal's cock brushing along the edge of his prostate.

Because that's the thing, isn't it?

Hannibal Lecter is laying on his back, hands wrapped about Will's waist, one leg propped up and foot placed on the bed for leverage and he's inside Will. Will's skin feels too tight, stretched too thinly across his skin as he swallows once more, looking at the debauched picture that Hannibal makes mid-sex. Hair tousled for once and pushed off of his forehead, he looks as if he's been concentrating on watching Will rather than fucking him, and Will doesn't doubt it for a moment that that's exactly what he was doing before he came to. He's still watching him now and Will can't help himself when he digs his nails into the skin of Hannibal's chest, hips shifting once more.

It's a slow movement, the slightest shift in his position but it's shooting sparks up the backs of Will's eyes, and he can't help himself as images of the moment he came to flash and dance behind the backs of his eyelids as he closes them. He'd been panting, a mess of hot nerves and swollen cock as he ground down on Hannibal, little whimpers and a tight feeling in his chest erupting from him as he lifted himself up and drove back down. The tightness in his chest is different from the tightness along his lower belly, the slithering snake of pleasure leaping bounds as Will opens his eyes and mouth to say something—

Nothing comes out as he stares down at Hannibal. He looks as composed as composed can be in the middle of sex, and Will wants to know what it takes to drive him to the brink. The nights the nightmares don't plague his mind are littered with the dreams of Hannibal, of a slick tongue and fingertips dancing across his skin. He's a sexual being, yes, but never had he felt such an undiluted attraction to a man before. Will had been drowning in everything that was Hannibal long before this moment.

A gasp bubbles from between his lips as he raises himself, the heels of his feet digging into the soft fabric of the bedspread beneath them as he feels the tight drag of Hannibal's cock along his insides. There is no pain sparking up his back or biting at his thighs, just the fucking _need_ to feel and drive and fuck and touch and taste and kiss.

Scours from his nails digging into Hannibal's chest, Will leans down with the movement, mouth catching along his and tongue slicking a path into his mouth. Hannibal's hands tighten on his hips and he knows he's going to have painful bruises in the morning, but all he can think about is the hot slick feeling in his stomach, the almost-rough drag of Hannibal inside of him and the feeling of his tongue in his mouth.


End file.
